


Hinterland

by Sheepie



Category: Inception (2010), Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Also did I say codependency?, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, And Harry will lose his shit and be super protective, Angst, BAMF!Eames, BAMF!Harry, BAMF!arthur, BECAUSE SUPER CODEPENDENCY, Cobol Engineering - Freeform, Codependency, Dream Husbands to the Rescue, Dreaming Sharing, Eggsy is a broken Egg, Eggsy is literally just going to be mentally/psychologically be tortured to the point of cracking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone is BAMF, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Inception AU, M/M, Nash is still a wanker, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Physical Abuse, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Smut, The Inception AU no one wanted, Torture, Verbal Abuse, Violence, hurt!eggsy, like a lot of it, protective!harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-18 00:03:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7291522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheepie/pseuds/Sheepie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reality is breaking.</p><p>He's seen it, over and over again. The look of horror in Harry's eyes as Eggsy pulls the trigger.</p><p>Is that really Harry in the cell, or just a figment of his guilt addled mind.</p><p>All he knows is the enemy has them and he has to fight.</p><p>---</p><p>An Inception AU where Eggsy and Harry are taken hostage and tortured. The result rattles Kingsman to the core and leaves the two agents highly dependent on one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hinterland

**Author's Note:**

> This is self-betaed. Sorry for any mistakes.
> 
> So here is the Inception AU no one asked for but I wanted to do anyways. It's going to get dark. Super dark. So please heed tags and check back on them to see if I added any.

            “So all we’re doing is playing tourist and following this bloke around?” Eggsy asked, setting his duffle on the bed. “That’s it?”

            “As of right now, yes,” Harry said, sitting at the desk in the hotel room, a laptop opened in front of him. “According to what intel we have gathered, he has a meeting scheduled with a contact from the Lazovsky Gang during his stay in Moscow.”

            Eggsy took a seat on the corner of the bed. The room was sparse, with only the basic furnishings, and a stock painting of a bowl of fruit hung above the headboard of the queen bed. There was a questionable stain on the comforter next to Eggsy’s hand. “And we’re wot, father and son?”

            He didn’t add that he’d rather play lovers.

            “It’s the most believable,” Harry agreed, shifting the chair so he faced Eggsy. “We should be able to wrap this up in less than a week.”

            “Should I start calling y’ ‘daddy’?” Eggsy teased with a quirked brow.

            Eggsy swore he saw a flash of hunger crackle across Harry’s eyes like heat lightning. “Cheeky,” Harry sniffed. “Keep up the lip, and I’ll turn you over my knee, _son_.”

            Oh. Oh, that shouldn’t have turned Eggsy on, but man did his stomach flip at the idea of bending across Harry’s lap. He knew this mission would be trouble, he’d known it the minute Arthur had handed him the dossier.

            They’d been at this dance for too long, and Eggsy could feel it all coming to a head. Roxy had told them once that watching them was like watching a storm brew. Electricity filled the air whenever they locked eyes.

            Ever since Harry’s return to the field, a little under a year after V-Day, he’d worked closely with Eggsy. For the last six months they’d taken over a dozen joint missions, working together like a well-oiled killing machine. And with each notch in Eggsy’s gun handle, he felt his already simmering attraction grow to a boil. He’d been a veritable volcano for the last three months, ready to go Krakatoa on Harry.

            “That isn’t much incentive to behave,” Eggsy said, his throat going dry. He met Harry’s gaze, grinning toothily, willing Harry to push a little harder.

            “If ye two are done,” Merlin cut in over the com. “We do have a mission to do.”

            Eggsy coughed in his hand, while Harry turned back to his computer, his shoulders tense. “Sorry Merlin,” Eggsy said with a wince. “Wot’s up?”

            “’What’s up’ is that ye both need to be at yer location in the next twenty minutes to monitor the mark and ye’re both pissing about like two teenagers who figured out what to do with their cocks,” Merlin snapped, his brogue thickening halfway through the diatribe. Eggsy could see his face purpling in frustration, his bushy eyebrows reaching the top of his scalp. Eggsy didn’t hold it against Merlin. He was sure the man was running on about ten minutes of sleep and seventy-five litters of tea. “If ye could both save this piss poor rendition of _My Fair Lady_ and get a fecking move on it, I’d be mighty appreciative.”

            “That’s quite enough, Merlin. We’re on our way, there’s no need to give yourself another hernia,” Harry said, his register never raising above pleasant, though there was an undeniable chill that sent a shiver down Eggsy’s spine—and not for the good reasons.

            Harry closed his laptop and stood. “Ready, Eggsy?”

            “Yeah, sure,” Eggsy said, albeit hesitantly. He could practically feel Merlin fuming through the comlink. Harry and Merlin were known to share barbs with one another, but there was a particular sharpness to Harry’s last comment, as if he’d been intent on drawing blood.

            The last thing he needed was Harry and Merlin at war, so he added, “Sorry about that. We’ll let y’ know when we hit the rendezvous point.”

            “See that ye do.” A pause, then Merlin added, “Oh and Galahad? While I’m sure ye can’t be arsed to remove that stick from yer arse, since it seems to be the only thing keeping yer spine straight at the moment, but do us all a favor and consider what I told ye. And I mean that with all the love and care.”

            “Uh, do I want to know?” Eggsy asked.

            Both said no at the same time, and Eggsy snapped his mouth shut. Harry looked away hastily, leaving the bedroom in a brisk stride. Eggsy sighed heavily. While the mission wouldn’t take but a week at most, if things kept going the way they were, it was going to be a very long week.

* * * *

            Their target was Lukas Nash, former American Marine, Special Opts. He was listed as killed in action ten years ago. At the time his name had been Lukas Haas. He resurfaced three years after his obituary ran with a new alias and skill set in what was described as dream architecture and extraction—whatever that meant. His last listed employer was Cobol Engineering.

            That was what the dossier said. Eggsy was pretty sure the guy was just a tourist. For the last three days they’d followed Nash around Moscow, looking at all the trademark tourist attractions—the Kremlin, Saint Basil’s Cathedral, Red Square, and the Alexander Garden. It was all very pretty, but it was bloody cold, and Eggsy started to fear permeant frost bite to his bollocks.

            “We sure this is our guy? I mean, wot if we got it wrong and our target is really lounging on a beach off the coast of St. Lucia and we’re here arse deep in snow with popsicles for dicks?” Eggsy groused. He puffed into his hands to warm them, through his gloves.

            Harry smiled bemusedly at him, half his mouth obscured by a green scarf that drew out the ribbons of olive in his tea-tinted eyes. “I’m sure,” Harry said. They were standing on the corner, a map opened in front of them, pretending to fuss over where to go next, while their target sat comfortably inside a café. “And a gentleman doesn’t refer to his… _dick_ as a popsicle.”

            “Y’re making those up as y’ go.” Eggsy huffed out a laugh.

            “Perhaps, but it’s still a good rule of thumb,” Harry answered with a sniff. He folded the map and nodded to a restaurant across from the café. “Let’s go in there and thaw.”

            Eggsy didn’t need to be instructed twice. He made a beeline for the restaurant, grateful as soon as he stepped into the warmth. It settled over him like a blanket, curling around his aching fingers and nose, leaving a dull numbing throb as his blood began to recirculate.

            Eggsy almost asked if he could warm his hands in Harry’s, especially when Harry crowded close to him, as if to help alleviate some of the burn with his own body heat. But then Eggsy remembered they were in Russia, on a mission, with a possibly dangerous man across the street, and most importantly, Harry wasn’t _his_ to hold hands with.

            He flicked his gaze to Harry, studying his profile as Harry spoke with the hostess. His tortoiseshell glasses sat on the strong line of his regal nose. There was a softness to his chin, though it was subtle, like a stone sculpture that had been gently weathered over time but still retained its shape.

            “Nice view,” Merlin commented, and Harry turned to Eggsy, his brows furrowed in confusion.

            Eggsy’s heart fluttered, and he glanced away. Harry settled his hand on the back of Eggsy’s neck, his gloves removed, and the feel of Harry’s palm pressed against his chilled skin felt like embracing a flame.

            “Come along, son,” Harry said and guided Eggsy behind the waitress. Merlin chuckled; Eggsy started to wonder if there was some great cosmic joke he didn’t get.

            The week continues to proceed in a similar fashion, with Eggsy nearly going frost bitten, Harry taking every opportunity to call him _son_ and leave his heart pounding, and Merlin alternating between being helpful and antagonizing. Nash wandered, looked, and all around did nothing of any importance.

            Eggsy had been on stake out missions. He didn’t mind them, though they were his least favorite. Too much sitting and not enough doing. But this had to take the cake for worst stakeout.

            On day five, the weather took a turn for the worst. It didn’t just snow, it whited out. There wasn’t any way Nash would be going out, even to make a deal, and Harry and Eggsy were sequestered into their room.

            Merlin, blessedly, wasn’t there to goad them; Eggsy really started to wonder if something happened between Merlin and Harry before the mission. But Eggsy was still stuck in a small room, with one bed, with Harry fucking Hart.

            Eggsy didn’t know if it was heaven or hell.

            Harry entertained him with a few rounds of chess. They ordered room service for lunch and Eggsy tried to convince Harry to lie in bed and eat it with him, but Harry stated firmly, “I will not have crumbs in bed, just because you wanted to laze about. Now come sit down at the table.”

            Eggsy pouted, but listened and flopped unceremoniously in the chair. By the middle of the afternoon, Eggsy was ready to go bonkers. He hated staying cooped up. He never did it before Kingsman. He was always out, always somewhere. It was either that or stay home and wait for Dean to find an excuse to beat him. Better to go out and see what trouble he could get into.

            “Do sit down, Eggsy,” Harry said from where he was stretched out on the bed, reading a leather bound book—who carried leather bound books? Only Harry.

            “It looks like it slowed,” Eggsy said, looking out the window where it was still decidedly white, albeit deepened to a softer gray as evening began to creep upon them.

            Harry huffed and shook his head. “No it hasn’t, and our target hasn’t left his room. I had Merlin check the CCTV. Now if you’d kindly stop your pacing, you’re wearing a path in the floor and I don’t want to pay for repairs.”

            Eggsy sunk down on the edge of the bed. “How can y’ stand it? Aren’t y’ bored?”

            Harry held up his book, and Eggsy squinted at the gilded title: _Jane Eyre_. “Ain’t that a chick book?” Eggsy asked, though he scooted up curiously.

            Harry settled a flat look at him, and Eggsy could feel the tips of his ears pinking. Harry heaved a sigh and patted the spot beside him. Eggsy hesitated for only a split second, before crawling up the rest of the way and stretching out beside Harry. He didn’t relax, lying stiffly as a board along the length of Harry’s longer body.

            “It isn’t a ‘chick book’, thank you, it’s a classic. A beautiful story about the testament of love,” Harry said. He turned back to the page he was on, gaze moving over the page, until he started reading in a smooth caramel register.

            Eggsy started to relax as he listened to Harry, eventually sinking into him, his head finding its way on Harry’s shoulder. Eggsy didn’t know when, but Harry’s arm at some point wrapped around him and Eggsy’s head slipped lower, until his cheek pressed against Harry’s chest. Eggsy listened the entire time, enraptured by the tale Harry spun, as much as he was by the gentle cadence of his voice.

            By evening, the weather had begun to clear, though it still snowed heavily. They went down to the small restaurant in the hotel for supper. That night as they settled into bed, two feet of mattress stretched between them, Eggsy felt a sharp pang of longing. He almost closed the distance. Almost reached across the bed for Harry. Almost told him how ridiculously in love he was with him. Almost.

            Eggsy turned on his side, his back to Harry, and drifted off to the memory of low murmured words and strong arms.

* * * *

            On Saturday, the last day of the mission, Eggsy and Harry monitored from a distance, grateful for a break in the weather. Nash had a flight scheduled at four o’clock, and a little before two, Merlin said over the coms, “I’ve booked you both flights on his return. You’ll follow him to America. A jet will be waiting to extract you.”

            Eggsy didn’t like the idea of being stuck on an airplane for ten plus hours with their target, and from the crinkle in Harry’s brow, neither did he.

            “Merlin, why are we getting on the plane with him? This entire trip has been a bust,” Eggsy said.

            “I’d thank ye kindly not to question my orders, Bors,” Merlin stated tersely.

            “It’s a fair question Merlin. We’ve been watching him for a week, and he hasn’t made any connections with any of Sergei Lazovsky’s men. I’m with Eggsy, I would think our efforts would be better spent remaining here to monitor the Lazovsky Gang.”

            “Aye and that would make sense if they were the ones we were after,” Merlin said. “But Nash is yer target. Nash is carrying with him a briefcase, which he locked in the safe in his room. I’ve gone over the videos of his room, and he hasn’t looked at that briefcase the entire trip. But he’s checked it over half-a-dozen times as he’s gotten ready to leave.”

            “And you want what’s in that briefcase.” It wasn’t a question. Harry stroked his chin, then took a seat on the edge of the bed. “What’s in that briefcase Merlin?”

            “I can’t be sure, but we believe it’s a PASIV.”

            “A wot?” Eggsy dug through the files, finding the dossier. “That wasn’t in the report—wot the fuck is that? If it’s so important, why don’t we just break into his room and take it?”

            “A PASIV is a Portable Automated Somnacin Intravenous device,” Merlin explained, which didn’t clarify anything.

            “Again, a wot?”

            Merlin sighed, and Eggsy felt like the slow kid in the back of the class. “It’s a Dream Sharing device. It was developed by the US Military during Operation Morpheus as a way to train soldiers, but due to adverse effects from the dream sharing, the military scratched the program. The device entered the black market, and with it a new job field was created.”

            Eggsy absorbed the information, the dossier forgotten on the table. He studied Harry, whose expression had darkened with each passing second. Eggsy’s fingers twitched, and it took all his control not comb them through Harry’s hair and pull him into his arms.

            “And wot’s dream sharing?” Eggsy asked.

            He expected Merlin to answer, but Harry replied instead. “It’s when you’re put under and a person can enter your subconscious. You aren’t aware that you’re asleep. As far as you know, that is your reality. While the person sharing with you has full control over your subconscious mind.”

            “Fuck,” Eggsy whispered. His stomach dropped through the floor. The idea of anyone going into his mind, let alone turning it into their own personal playground, made the back of his neck prickle. “Why weren’t we alerted about this before?”

            “That’s what I’d like to know,” Harry said, and while his tone remained even, there was a steely edge to it, as sharp and true as the point of a rapier.

            “I wasn’t sure if Nash was carrying as PASIV with him. At the time, all our intel told us was that he had former experience in dream sharing and that he planned on contacting the Lazovsky Gang. I was under the belief he was being hired by the group, and while that’s still a possibility, I believe he may be selling the PASIV to them.”

            “But why sell the PASIV? That’s extreme, especially since it’s such a vital piece of equipment and there aren’t many left in circulation,” Harry said.

“Ever since his last job with Cobol Engineering went tits up, he’s been black listed. He hasn’t been on an extraction team since. My guess is he’s desperate for money, and Lazovsky is a very wealthy man. If we can get a hold of that device, not only will it prevent very bad people from being able to do very bad things, but we may have the ability to replicate the machine.”

            Harry straightened his shoulders and stood. “We’ll talk about the ethical ambiguity of dream sharing when I return. You know how I feel about it Merlin.”

            Eggsy sensed there was something he was missing, but now wasn’t the time to ask. Maybe on their flight back Eggsy would get Harry to tell him. It wasn’t often that the great Galahad was shaken—the only time Eggsy could think of was that dreadful day in Kentucky—but Harry looked positively chilled to the bone.

“Aye, I do.” Merlin chuckled hollowly, only further raising Eggsy’s concerns. “And while I dinnae think ye have much ground to stand on, what with yer moral compass not exactly pointing true, I’ll be more than happy to debate with you the merits of dream extraction. As for right now, ye have a flight to catch. Be careful, Nash is a very paranoid man with many powerful enemies.”

They packed up and headed for the airport. Eggsy spent the taxi ride trying to wrap his mind around the concept of dream sharing. At least he now knew what Merlin meant when he wrote down ‘dream architect’ in the dossier.

Eggsy wasn’t sad to see Moscow go. While the city held a certain old world beauty to it, he was tired of the snow.

They arrived at the Sheremetyevo International Airport a few minutes before Nash. Harry retrieved their tickets while Eggsy kept an eye out for Nash, busying himself at a gift shop that sold stuffed polar bears and boxes of candies. Eggsy picked up a snow globe with the Kremlin in it and shook the trinket, watching the glittering white specks spiral around the colorful spires.

“Somfin don’t sit right with me,” Eggsy said under his voice, maneuvering to a section of the store where he wasn’t within earshot of the attendant. “Like Harry said, selling the PASIV is on the extreme side. But say he is hard up for money, and no one wants to work with him. Why sell to Lazovsky though? Wot would Lazovsky want with a PASIV? I mean, unless y’ know how to use it, it don’t do y’ much good, right?”

“A solid point, lad,” Merlin said, “And one I’ve been trying to piece together myself. But as of right now the only thing we know is Nash went to Moscow with the intent of contacting Sergei Lazovsky, and if he’s making the exchange, it’ll be there at the airport. Keep yer eyes sharp.”

Nash passed the window of the shop, dragging a carry on behind him and holding a plain black briefcase. Eggsy set the snow globe down. He returned to Harry, who finished paying for the tickets.

“Didn’t see anything you liked?” Harry asked as he handed Eggsy his ticket.

“Nothing worth the money,” Eggsy said.

Harry placed his hand on Eggsy’s lower back, his palm burning through Eggy’s thick layers of clothes and searing his skin. Eggsy resisted the urge to lean back into the touch and let Harry steer him away from the counter towards security.

They sat off to the distance, Eggsy playing on his phone while Harry read a book, all the while the both of them tracking Nash as he crossed the terminal and found his own seat. He was on the phone, speaking in quick, hushed tones that Eggsy couldn’t hear.

He still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, that they’d missed something vital. The entire trip had felt like one long drawn out charade. They’d been dragged up and down the streets of Moscow, while Nash desperately played the role of an American tourist.

Nash boarded the plane before they did. He slipped the briefcase in the overhead compartment with his carry on. Eggsy bumped into him as he moved to past, murmuring, “Sorry, bruv.”

The hairs on the back of Eggsy’s neck stood as he stepped around Nash and found his seat. They were in first class. The roomy seats were wide enough part that if Eggsy wanted to, he could lie completely down. Harry took the seat beside him, shoving their things in the overhead compartment.

On top of Nash and themselves, there were three other people in the cabin. A dark skinned woman in a black A-line dress, a rumpled looking businessman who looked barely older than Eggsy and wore a suit that was definitely off the rack, and a stoic Indian woman with a single streak of gray in her hair.

The stewardess brought glasses of water out for each passenger. Eggsy accepted his with a smile and wink, earning a scowl from Harry. He poked his tongue out at Harry, then took a large gulp of water.

Nash, settled in his seat, pulled out his phone. Eggsy looked around the cabin, trying to piece whether one of the other passengers was Lazovsky’s contact. None of them looked the part.

Harry finished his own water, idly flipping through his copy of _Jane Eyre._ The stewardess collected their trash, and then the captain came on to announce their flight. No one else had boarded the plane. The engines started and the plane began to draw away from the terminal.

That wasn’t right. There was no way the flight wasn’t over booked. The airport lobby had been packed with waiting passengers.

Eggsy glanced at Harry, his pulse quickening. He raised a brow in silent question. Harry’s eyes were glassy. In fact, his face was a little fuzzy.

“Harry,” Eggsy said, at least he thought he did. His tongue was leaden. He looked around the cabin, blinding lens flares speckling his vision. His heart swam, a muffled throb between his ears. He reached for Harry. “Merlin, M-Merlin somfin… isn’t… ri…”

His vision oscillated between black and blurry, before finally shuttering closed. He slumped in his seat, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.


End file.
